just another sunday in honduras

I am loving things here in Honduras. I have never felt so peaceful, content, unworried, and unstressed. For instance, at this very moment I am curled up on a big hammock on the porch, listening to Norah Jones and contemplating how I love life while enjoying the quiet rainfall over Santa Lucía. 

Here, my questions and worries aren't the usual "what should you be doing" or "what are you forgetting" or "what should you be worrying about for tomorrow, or next week, or next year." Instead, I enjoy every day as it comes, spontaneously deciding what to do for the next few minutes, maybe for the next few hours. I enjoy the here and now, and spend little time or energy worrying about anything else.

This morning, Liz and I decided to embark on an adventure: explore Magdalena, the next town over. While we run there sometimes (~1.5 miles away), we spend much of our time looking down at the road to make sure we don't slip in the mud, or twist our ankles on a rock. We had never actually looked up to see the town, or talk to its people. Today's walk was wonderful. It was warm and humid outside--as usual--and we got a lot of mud onto our flip flops and bottoms--as usual--but we had a great time chatting and enjoying the countryside.

When we arrived ~ 40 minutes later, we found that Magdalena was actually a pretty little town. From what we saw, it was more developed than Santa Lucía; the main road was paved with stones, and almost every house had tiled floors, the primary indicator of wealth around here. By the time we arrived (around noon), the mercado was already ending, vendors putting their produce, shoes, jerseys, phone chargers, etc. away into big trash bags to sell on a different day. Instead, we ventured into a farmacia/tienda, where we found that the storeowner's sister was the doctor in the Magdalena health center: Césamo Magdalena. A woman to meet another day. We also stumbled upon the nearby campo, where there was an organized game of fútbol--complete with jerseys, food vendors, and even vuvuzelas among the crowd! As una gringa y chinita, we drew some attention from the locals, including the usual declarations of love and beauty. We even had a man follow us down the road for awhile, but for the most part there was little reason for concern. 

On the way back, we had just reached the bridge when a truck slowed down next to us. "Vamos?!" the man shouted to us across (presumably) his wife, who was not nearly as enthusiastic to see us. Liz and I had just discussed the possibility of hitchhiking back to the clinic--a common practice here--and here was our chance! A quick look to the back of the truck confirmed a group that included women and even a small boy (wide-eyed and beautiful, of course), so after a short exchange ("Adónde van?" "Santa Lucía!") we climbed into the back, where a woman made room for me on the side, and Liz sat cross-legged on the floor.

We talked a little bit with our fellow passengers in the back, but for the most part we just reveled in our adventure, looking out into the country and sometimes giggling to each other. We crossed the muddy ditch with no mishap--the same place where I had caked my running shoes in mud--and at one point we were in the midst of a herd of cows, including a huge black bull with a hump on its back. We even saw an abandoned bus in a field, vines crawling out of its windows. 

We were dropped off (or rather, we hopped off) right in front of the clinic, just in time for lunch. 


Perfect.